


In Flagrante Delicto

by flammablehat



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-30
Updated: 2009-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-23 14:11:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flammablehat/pseuds/flammablehat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You never expected this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Flagrante Delicto

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [](http://aeroport-art.livejournal.com/profile)[**aeroport_art**](http://aeroport-art.livejournal.com/) 's delicious piece, ['Openmouthed.'](http://aeroport-art.livejournal.com/90826.html) Which, obviously, is not mine, just as the Merlin and Arthur-y goodness are not mine either. Bah, disclaimers.

You never expected this.

Well, that’s not quite right. Your imagination may have taken you here many times before, let you glorify in all the impossible little details your mind could conjure, but fantasy is a far cry from expectation. Fantasy is the utter lack of expectation. Fantasy is hope in a vacuum.

So you could never have dreamed of this. The reality of this moment, rubbing your fingers together, twisting your wrist, the hot splash of Merlin’s semen slipping over your skin with slick little whispers that say yes this is happening, yes Merlin is a sharp ungainly weight on your thighs, _yes_ you made him beg, made him blush, made him come.

In your catalogue of fantasies, this experience is rocketing to the top of the pile. _Not_ because it’s a new image for you, or because you simply never thought of it before (stupid, it’s so perfect, who needs handcuffs or plaid skirts or the odd vibrating dildo anyway?), but because there is so. much. depth.

It’s like this:

You tugged him sideways into your lap. He wobbled, clumsy, slinging an arm around your neck. You touched him, watching, intent like you’ve never been before. It’s Merlin’s fault, or maybe it’s the fault of your previous lovers for being so comparatively dull. Or maybe it’s just that there wasn’t anything to _see_ with the others. With Merlin, you’re pulling at the threads of his expression, fingers dancing over the smooth head of his cock until his whole body is unraveling, and every move he makes you are responsible for – a puppeteer expertly manipulating invisible strings.

Merlin whines. Merlin makes abortive half breathing noises and closes his eyes when your gaze returns to his face, the glow in his cheeks intensifying. The warm crease of one knee is hooked over your hip, the other over your own knee, his arse balanced on your opposite thigh and his chest ninety degrees to yours. He can’t stop writhing and all the squirming is sliding your cock back and forth along the sweet curve of his bottom. But you’re not distracted – it just makes everything more visceral, mainlining physical pleasure and voyeuristic focus right into your gut, a tempestuous cocktail of lust and fascination.

He pulls his hand away, long white fingers making furrows in his dark mop of hair. You keep a balancing hold on the small of his back, fanning out your hand until you can slip your two middle fingers between his cheeks, one on top of the other. He starts, slipping forward, gasping your name in two parts, first syllable, second syllable, keening and rocking because you’ve decided to be a prick and follow his hole with your fingertips. And his face is _so close_ , your lips drag over his nose, his cheek; you cannot _breathe_ , your wrist is flicking, jerking of its own accord, it seems to know his cock better than your own, judging by Merlin’s fracturing expression—

His hips bow up like he’s been struck by lightning and you have to abandon his arse to keep him from flailing himself right off your lap. His arm comes up underneath yours, fisting at your nape, the other darting to your hand still sliding up and down his cock, to stop you or to help you – it’s irrelevant, because he’s making beautiful helpless noises like your hand is wrapped around his heart, and you think. Maybe. Maybe it is, feeling the pulse thud pulse of something absolutely magical fluttering beneath your palm.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] In Flagrante Delicto](https://archiveofourown.org/works/953300) by [Readbyanalise010](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Readbyanalise010/pseuds/Readbyanalise010)




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